


where were you, when everything was falling apart?

by chilloutkylo (superhusbands)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-27 23:42:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18200579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhusbands/pseuds/chilloutkylo
Summary: it was a gift from sora, gifted to him with shaking hands and wide eyes on a blustery morning back home. "so you don’t lose the things that matter", he’d said with a soft smile and a peck on riku’s cheek. "you have to take care of the things you love."riku wasn’t always good at taking care of the things he loved.





	1. i.

it started simple. a comment made about socks left behind on the floor, or dishes in the sink. the catalyst is a mystery to him even now, days later, as he sits alone in a cozy lodge somewhere in the mountainside of vermont. he shivers as his hands shove into his pockets; the fire is warm, but the blood pulsing in his veins is ice cold. 

 

riku sighs, letting his eyes slip closed momentarily.

this was supposed to be better.  this was supposed to be  _ fun.  _

 

it’s a thursday morning, the third day of a seven day trip, and this is the closest riku has gotten to hitting the slopes. his snowboard lays abandoned, propped up against the front of the lodge. it’s padlocked to a wall, with a key he has no intentions on using around his neck on a chain.  it was a gift from sora, gifted to him with shaking hands and wide eyes on a blustery morning back home.  _ so you don’t lose the things that matter,  _ he’d said with a soft smile and a peck on riku’s cheek.  _ you have to take care of the things you love.  _

 

riku wasn’t always good at taking care of the things he loved.

 

with his schoolwork, he was meticulous. his drawings were never good enough, always drawn and redrawn several times before he submitted his final work. he took issue with his shading, his line work, and anything else he could find to pick apart. what should have been a year to close out projects and complete old threads, preparing for new ones to blossom in life outside of college, was spent reopening old wounds and diving into uncertainty. 

 

sora, to his credit, had never begrudged him this.

 

until his nitpicking extended to their relationship, their home, their life together. 

until riku had picked and picked and picked and picked until there was nothing left to pick.

until a fight about socks had delved into a screaming match about how sora could never be as meticulously drawn to slot accordingly into riku’s life as he seemed to think riku wanted him to be. 

 

riku hadn’t screamed back.

he hadn’t been able to vocalize the fears that sora would one day see that it was  _ riku  _ who wasn’t meticulous. that it was riku who was all errors, all imperfections; all harsh, angry, lines that didn’t seem to make sense. 

 

sora was the opposite. he was bright, he was considerate, he was loving, and he was patient. he was everything riku wished he could be.  he loved that about sora. he loved that sora was light, that he could brighten a room simply by being. it seemed effortless. he was effortless. 

 

on his worst days, riku hated him for it. 

 

_ i’m real,  _ sora would cry out, those big blue eyes welled up with tears.  _ i have real emotions, i have real flaws, i’m a real person. you can’t erase the things you don’t like about me and try to draw them back in differently, riku. people don’t work like that.  you see that, right?  _

 

he hadn’t.

not until it was too late. 

 

sitting in the airport on a plane headed to a romantic getaway less the man he loved with their classmates, riku was all too aware of all the ways he’d seemingly failed.  failed sora, failed himself, failed them both. 

 

stress, it seemed, wasn’t something riku was very good at coping with.

and as predicted, he learned such valuable lessons too little, too late. 

 

_ so that’s it?  _ he’d said evenly, eyes lidded as he swallowed hard.  _ what does this mean?  _

 

_ i need time,  _ his boyfriend had replied slowly, unevenly; his gaze was trained on a watermark on their kitchen wall.  _ i think you should go to vermont. alone.  _

 

so he had. 

he’d packed his things, averted his gaze, and jumped on a plane. 

 

now, a thousand miles away, he can’t help but wonder if leaving was another test he’d failed. 


	2. ii

the silence was deafening. with only the sound of his own regrets haunting the apartment, sora felt no need to draw the curtains and bring life to the home they shared. or had shared. the status of their sharing felt indecisively undetermined.  

 

the absence of riku is jarring. the pillows still dip where his head used to rest and the sheets smell distinctly of his cologne, but he is gone. absent. out of grasp. it’s an untethering kind of distance that makes sora uneasy as his cheery disposition fades to zero opacity.

 

_ hey google,  _ he grunts out at some point,  _ play big boys do cry playlist.  _

the device chirps, the sounds of some melancholy tune by the fray bursting from the speakers.

sora furrows deeper into the blankets. 

 

he’s supposed to be in vermont. he should be gripping twin poles, navigating expertly between markers as he skis down the mountain. or alternatively, he’ll be flat on his ass, unable to do anything but resemble bambi as he navigates unsteadily through. his cheeks would be flushed, his eyes would be sparkling, and he’d end the night curled up with riku in front of the fire with hot cocoa. he’d bought specialty cocoa the week before; a surprise for his boyfriend, one he’d never gotten to share with him.

 

he burrows further into the blankets. so far, that maybe he becomes one with the blankets.

that is, until someone tugs him out.

 

“get up.” kairi is patient, but she’s impatient in ways that riku isn’t. she says it with force, but her gaze is soft. if you resist, there’s belief that she’ll acquiesce and let the tide sweep you back out again. sora’s been drowning for so long -- in blankets, in feelings, in a multitude of songs by the fray that all sound the same, that he’s not sure he wants to surface. 

 

today, kairi is impatient like riku.

today, kairi doesn’t relent. 

 

“you’re not going to sit here and sulk all week. it’s been days.” again she’s pressing, hands kneading muscles that sora didn’t even know were tied in knots.  eyes that have long since run out of tears sting as reality sets in.  _ it has been days. riku is really gone.  _

 

but is it a surprise, when sora’s the one who told him to go? can you be angry at someone for doing what you’ve asked them to?  the _ one thing  _ you’ve asked for amidst a sea of broken promises, regret, and prolonged silences that speak more than words ever could?

 

it isn’t his fault.

but it isn’t riku’s fault either.

maybe this is a victimless situation, where both parties are equally guilty. or innocent.

 

“i’m not ready.” the guilt says.  it’s the guilt, not sora, because sora has been crushed so effortlessly by the guilt it's all that he is. all that he can be. all he can see. except kari drags sora free from the guilt’s clutches, tries to drag him back towards the light he’s all but abandoned.

 

_ it’s easy, _ he notes,  _ how quickly darkness can be embraced when your heart is engulfed in despair.  _

 

“staying in bed all day won’t make you feel more ready.” kairi reprimands him, her hands tugging him up and out of the sea of blankets. the waves caress his limbs gently as the startling reality jerks him back to the surface. he is up. he is alive. riku is gone. “tell me what happened.”

 

so he does. he talks about the late nights; him, in the campus lounge working on his student film, and riku poured over his sketchbook in their shared space. how they never saw each other. how when they did, it was only to curl up next to each other as sleep ravaged their weary bodies; how intimacy was nonexistent, their conversations rushed. 

 

how a fight about dirty dishes in the sink led to an all out war.

 

“...and now he’s gone.” he mumbles. “he left.”

 

kairi is quiet. her eyes tell a story, softening under sora’s scrutiny. “he left.” she echoes, hair nimbly pushed free from her face. her smile is small, but comforting. it reminds him of home; of childhood, when dynamics between the trio were infinitely simpler. “...but he didn’t say you couldn’t go after him.”


	3. iii

it’s saturday morning, the fifth day of a seven day trip. when riku wakes, it’s with a start. sleep doesn’t drip gradually from his eyes, it pours like a gaping wound as he jolts upright. there’s panic flooding his synapses, his mouth dry as he coughs harshly. the window is open, wind rustling through the curtains as the temperature drops. 

 

he’s alone in vermont. 

he’s alone in vermont and will probably die of exposure. 

 

he coughs again, shivering in the frozen room. even after the window is closed, securely locked and curtains pulled shut, it’s too cold to stay in his pajamas.  as abruptly as riku was ripped from sleep, he is ripped from his isolation. 

 

he descends, each step more agnozing than the next. his friends have been incessant, asking questions that he has no answers for.  _ where is sora? when will sora get here? where have you been? are you okay? is there something wrong? _

 

his answers are lacking.  
_i don’t know. i don’t know. i don’t know. i don’t know. i don’t know._

 

he’s starting to think he doesn’t really know anything, anymore. 

 

he’s drafted, edited, and deleted messages he never sends. types out paragraphs; line after line asking for forgiveness, begging for a second chance - for anything sora is willing to give. in weaker moments he spews his frustration, his isolation, and his regret that years of friendship could end in such a devastating way. he deletes those, too. 

 

he deletes every message he could send.

he deletes and he mourns.

for he’s sure, without a doubt, he has damaged things beyond repair. 

 

when he reaches the landing, his spirits have descended further than the stairs could ever take him. he coughs again, face tucking into the scarf that sora’s mother knitted for him. if he had tears left to cry, they’d be brimming. but much like his body and his heart, they’re encased in ice.

 

until he sees him.

he sees him and his heart begins to thaw. 

 

he’s sitting at the breakfast table. there’s a suitcase by his feet, a pair of skis melting puddles into the carpet. he thinks about how he would have complained about this before; before he knew what it was like to see the absence of such things. the absence of sora. 

 

he smiles.

sora smiles back.

 

yes, he thinks. he has an answer to one of the questions.

 

will you be okay?

 

sora smiles.

 

_ yes.  _

 

“i know i said you should come alone,” sora says, standing. he speaks before riku can open his mouth. before he can breathe. he’s here.  _ he’s here, he’s here, he’s here.   _ “...but i don’t want you to. i mean, i don’t want you to be here alone. without me. or me there, without you.” his cheeks flush like he’s embarrassed and riku wants to embrace him tight. he wants to draw him in close, kiss away his fears, and fall into him.  

 

“i don’t want that either.” is what he says instead, taking a tentative step closer. if there’s an abyss between them, his intention is to cross it; by any means necessary. “i just want you.” 

 

sora’s eyes are bright. he can see his own illuminated in them, watches as his smile breathes the light back into him. “well, you’ve got me.” 

 

everything blurs. sora is in his arms, then they are kissing. lips move urgently as fingers tear at clothing that needs to be gone, gone, gone. someone takes an elbow to the ribs. they laugh. they end up tangled together in front of the fire, sora’s head resting against riku’s shoulder as they catch their breath.  the fire crackles and warms them, casting shadows over sora’s face.

 

riku vows to commit it to memory.

he’ll remember this day, this moment.  this feeling in his chest that blossoms out.  it invades everything it sees, showering it in warmth and comfort.  this feeling - of being loved, of loving, is what you wish you could bottle up.  something you can sip on your best days, and mourn on your worst.

 

it’s a feeling he can only associate with sora. 

a feeling of finding his other half.  of knowing that they are greater than the sum of their parts. 

 

they talk for hours. they air grievances that remained unspoken, talk of hidden pains and insecurities that were never permitted to see the light of day. there’s a rawness, a vulnerability, that leaves riku shivering more than the cold air ever had.  it’s honest and it’s painful but it’s right. they’re right. 

 

sora’s imperfections, riku’s anxiety.

the things that held them together and threatened to tear them apart. 

 

it’s not perfect but it’s right. 

 

they talk through the day and into the night, until the sun streams in through the windows and rouses them from their slumber. it’s with a sigh that riku peels himself up off the floor, his back protesting in ways that his smile refuses to acknowledge. 

 

he makes pancakes for breakfast and let’s sora add chocolate chips. they add whip cream and lose track of time when kisses turn heated and the pancakes grow cold.

 

eventually they hit the slopes, riku cheering and whistling with their friends as sora navigates the slopes with ease.  they kiss when they meet at the bottom, cheeks flushed from the wind. riku’s smile remains a constant, even after being shoved backwards into the snow and tricked into making snow angels. with their pinkies linked, gaze meeting across miles of white, riku knows without certainty… there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. 

 

the key around his neck is a reminder.  to protect the things he loves, the  _ person  _ he loves, and never lose sight of things that matter. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone for sticking with me!! i can't believe this is actually finished. i am the queen of never finishing WIPs so i'm honestly pretty proud of this. if you want to scream about kingdom hearts, but tumblr url is the same as this pen name.


End file.
